


soft

by TealTumbleweed



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 15:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21056588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealTumbleweed/pseuds/TealTumbleweed
Summary: They just needed a little push, really.





	soft

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little idea that popped into my head and had to be written down. I love these oblivious dorks.

The cat appeared mid-afternoon on a drab and dreary day. She must’ve come in when the last customer had left and Aziraphale stared at her, unsure of what to do.

The cat stared back. She didn’t appear to have a collar and was positively drenched from the torrential downpour outside. She shivered a little. Aziraphale shook himself out of his stupor and approached her carefully.

“You poor thing,” he cooed at her. “Let me get you a towel.”

He went into the tiny kitchenette in the backroom of his shop and grabbed a clean towel from one of the drawers. It was a delightful shade of pink and the cats it had embroidered into the edges made Aziraphale smile. When he re-entered the shop the cat was still sitting in the same spot.

“Will you let me dry you off?” Aziraphale asked. He realised that he could probably evaporate the moisture with a simple miracle but he didn’t want to scare the poor thing.

The cat regarded him carefully when he approached her again, hands outstretched with the towel between them. Aziraphale did his best to emanate a sense of security as he let the cat first sniff his fingers. She did so with the softest _mrow_ and Aziraphale felt a wide smile appear on his face.

“Oh, you’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” he whispered to her. He slowly draped the towel over the cat’s back and gingerly patted her a little drier.

The cat miaowed again but otherwise stayed still, letting Aziraphale get her a little bit more comfortable. He took the time to get a better look at her. She was a tiny thing; not quite a kitten but not fully grown either. She was a beautiful pale cream colour with piercing blue-green eyes that regarded him steadily.

Aziraphale had never considered himself to be a cat person. He had observed many humans declare themselves as such and understood the appeal of a cat, but he had never given the animal itself much thought. But now, as he scratched the cat behind her ears, he felt a curious feeling bloom in his chest.

“You’d better stay inside until the rain stops,” he told the cat as he finished patting her dry. “No use in getting all wet again. Besides, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Aziraphale got up from where he was crouching on the floor and put the towel—now clean and dry again—back where he got it. Then he filled a small bowl with water and put it on the floor so the cat had something to drink.

“I’m afraid I haven’t got anything to eat for you,” he apologised to the cat. She tilted her head at him. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Aziraphale scolded her softly. “You’re too cute for your own good. How am I supposed to say no to that little face?”

He clasped his hands in front of him and regarded the cat for a little longer. “Time to get back to work,” he said out loud. “Feel free to take a nap on one of my chairs but please, keep your paws off my books.”

Sure that the cat understood his directive, Aziraphale returned to his desk and sat down in front of his ledger. He had been feeling a little aimless since stopping Armageddon and it had been weird returning to his bookshop; a little silly, even. He no longer needed it as a cover, after all. But he _liked_ his bookshop and its books and he was damned—figuratively speaking—if he didn’t continue his hard-earned collection.

It was a slow day, customer-wise. Not many people were out and about in weather like this, and that suited Aziraphale just fine. The few people who did step in were mostly seeking refuge from the rain and browsed for a minute or two until they discovered the cat and cooed over her instead. Aziraphale watched them interact from the corner of his eye with a satisfied smile.

The weather continued to be drab and dreary. Aziraphale disappeared into his work after his last customer left and he didn’t look up until he heard a voice behind him.

“What on earth is that?” said the voice, somewhat disgusted.

Aziraphale looked up from where he was browsing through an auction catalogue. Crowley was standing a little ways behind him with his hands on his hips, glaring at the cat sleeping on Aziraphale’s overstuffed chair.

“It’s a cat,” Aziraphale said, helpfully.

“Yes, I can see that,” Crowley snarked. “What’s it doing here?”

Aziraphale turned to face his friend fully. “She’s not doing anything. She’s a cat,” he said.

Crowley looked at him, one brow raised above his sunglasses. “Is this what you’re doing now? Adopting strays?” he asked.

Aziraphale laughed. “I should hope not,” he said. “I’ve got my hands full with you.”

Crowley cocked his hips to the right. “Oh, I’ll be your pet anytime,” he said, faking a sultry voice.

Aziraphale blushed. “Stop it, you,” he chided his friend, who just grinned back.

“So you’re not keeping the cat?” Crowley asked, his voice back to normal.

“I don’t think she’s mine to keep,” Aziraphale admitted. “She just walked in earlier this afternoon. She seems to be pretty comfortable here but that doesn’t mean she wants to stay. I guess I’ll have to wait and see what she does.”

Crowley hummed.

“You don’t like cats?” Aziraphale asked him.

“Nope,” Crowley replied, popping the ‘p’. “They’re shifty little buggers. Do whatever they want. Change their mind willy-nilly. Can’t be trusted.”

“So… just like you, then?” Aziraphale joked.

Crowley pouted at him. “Hey, you can trust me,” he said. “It’s just other people who can’t.”

Aziraphale had to smile at that. “Are you saying I’m special?”

Crowley scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Of course you are.”

Aziraphale felt something flutter inside him. He liked it when Crowley was being nice about him. “Have dinner with me?” he asked.

“Yeah, all right,” Crowley agreed, as if that wasn’t the reason why he was at the bookshop in the first place.

\-----

They dined at a nearby African restaurant and shared a meal that was so good Aziraphale was tempted to order seconds. He tried to refrain from doing that, nowadays. You tended to get weird looks when you ordered multiple mains—Aziraphale had discovered that ages ago.

Crowley took care of the bill and they left the restaurant together, feeling pleasantly buzzed from the cocktails they’d had. Aziraphale was just telling him about an old book he’d unearthed when he fell silent for a beat.

“Oh!” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Shouldn’t forget the cat food!”

Crowley grumbled next to him. “Sure, can’t forget the cat food,” he said, mimicking Aziraphale a little.

“Don’t be mean,” Aziraphale chided him. “I’m sure she’ll be on her way in no time.”

“She better be,” Crowley said. “I don’t like sharing you.”

That got Aziraphale a tad flustered, and he tried to mask it by confidently marching in the direction of the closest grocery store.

The shop they ended up in had a whole aisle with pet food, and Aziraphale felt his confidence waver. “Which one would she like, do you think?” he asked Crowley as he read the back of a can of salmon-flavoured cat food.

“How should I know?” Crowley returned. “Just get that one.”

“Maybe I should get some variation,” Aziraphale continued as if Crowley hadn’t said anything. “Wet and dry, salmon and turkey…”

Crowley rolled his eyes, knowing better than to interfere when his angel was on a roll like this.

Aziraphale marched off towards the checkout, arms laden with cat food. Never let it be said that he was a decisive person in situations like these. Crowley just followed him, resigned.

“Throwing a party?” the girl behind the register said in good humour. Crowley stared at her through his sunglasses until she was a little scared of him, and quickly scanned Aziraphale’s purchases.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, dear,” Aziraphale scolded his demon as they hit the street again. “She was just being nice.”

Crowley kicked at a stone on the pavement. “Didn’t think you’d noticed that,” he admitted guiltily.

Aziraphale scoffed. “Of course I’d noticed that,” he said, somewhat incredulous. “I’m very well aware of your demonic tendencies.”

Crowley shrugged, then put his fingers in the pockets of his trousers, trying to appear nonchalant. It wasn’t lost on Aziraphale, though.

“Stop that, you know I don’t think bad of you for being a demon,” he said. “You don’t blame me for being an angel, do you? It’s just the way things are.”

“I suppose,” Crowley said.

They hurried back to the bookstore—it was still raining, albeit not as drastically as earlier in the day—and Aziraphale was pleased to see the cat still asleep on one of his chairs.

“Just look at it,” Crowley said as he regarded the cat in distaste. “What a bastard.”

Aziraphale shushed him. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided him. “She’s the cutest little thing.”

At Aziraphale’s words, the cat looked up at them. Her tail twitched slightly before she suddenly jumped off the chair and made her way over to the pair standing in the door opening. Her gaze was on the bag Aziraphale was holding and he shook it lightly in response.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he told the cat as he made his way to the backroom. “Let’s prepare you a feast.”

He could almost feel Crowley roll his eyes behind him. “Should I leave the two of you alone?” he asked, only slightly sarcastically.

“Have just a little patience, my dear,” Aziraphale said over his shoulder.

A few minutes later, an assortment of cat food was placed down on the floor on intricately designed china plates. The cat circled it once before starting on what looked like a type of meat jelly.

“Can’t account for good taste,” Aziraphale shuddered. “Maybe I’ll try a home-cooked meal, next…”

“Good g—lo—grief, angel,” Crowley said. “Are you attached already?”

Aziraphale looked at his friend. “Of course I am,” he replied easily. Then: “Stop that, it’s rude to roll your eyes behind a pair of sunglasses.”

Crowley made a point of sliding his spectacles down his nose and rolling his eyes for Aziraphale to see. It made Aziraphale giggle a little.

“Idiot,” he said, except somehow it sounded more like, “I think you’re wonderful.”

\-----

The next day, the cat was still there. Aziraphale worked all morning with the door to the street ajar, so she could leave if she wanted to. She seemed pretty comfortable lazing around the bookshop, though. It suited Aziraphale just fine.

“It’s still here, then,” Crowley said later that afternoon when he came to pick up Aziraphale to go to the theatre. They did that quite often, even if Aziraphale was a bit sad about the fact that heckling the actors was no longer a socially accepted thing to do. They’d seen almost everything over the years and especially enjoyed following the work of upcoming playwrights.

“I think she likes it here,” Aziraphale said with a dreamy look on his face.

“It’s probably the food,” Crowley returned with a cocked eyebrow.

Aziraphale silently disagreed with that as he put on his coat.

\-----

It was a week later and the cat was still gracing A. Z. Fell and Co. with her presence. Aziraphale had had a ridiculously good few days and had started to think of the cat as his own personal good luck charm. Crowley, on the other hand, kept complaining about her.

“I’m not much good with animals, remember?” he told Aziraphale as the cat tried to go in for head scratches.

Aziraphale ignored him and decided that the cat needed a name. “Can’t keep calling her ‘the cat’,” he told Crowley with exaggerated air quotes.

“How about just Cat then?” Crowley suggested. “It worked fine for Adam and his gang.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “Not exactly the direction I was thinking of,” he said. “Hm. Cat.”

The cat looked up from where she was lounging on her chair.

“See? Cat agrees,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale hummed. “Fine,” he said. “Doesn’t like the cat but has to be the one to name her…”

Crowley stuck out his tongue at him.

\-----

It was another couple days later when Crowley entered the bookshop at the end of the afternoon. Aziraphale immediately noticed his bad mood—he looked downright miserable.

“Bad day?” he asked him.

“Hrng,” was Crowley’s only reply as flung his sunglasses on the table before planting himself facedown on Aziraphale’s ancient sofa in the backroom.

As if on auto pilot, Aziraphale started preparing a nice cup of cocoa. He put it down on the coffee table and left Crowley to his sulking—even though he rationally knew Crowley didn’t actually need any sleep, he decided to leave him to his rest anyway. That would cheer him up somewhat, he guessed. He went back to work.

An hour later he was done with sorting through his correspondence and he stretched luxuriously, pleased with the progress he made in acquiring new—well, old—and rare books. He got up carefully and looked around the shop, which was empty of customers. He walked toward the door and flipped the sign to ‘closed’, then made his way into the backroom.

He’d been so immersed in his work that he’d almost forgotten about Crowley. As soon as he stepped into his private area, he had to suppress a gasp. There, lying sprawled on his back on the threadbare sofa, was Crowley, fast asleep. He was snoring softly, his breathing slow. And on his chest, moving up and down with Crowley’s breath, was Cat, curled up in a little ball.  
  
Without making any noise, Aziraphale lowered himself into a chair opposite the couch. He crossed his legs and put his elbow on his knee, resting his face in his hand as he stared at Crowley.

If only… Aziraphale sighed. How many years had he been staring at Crowley now? He felt as if even God herself didn’t have the answer to that question. If only Crowley wasn’t so… dense. No, Aziraphale thought. If only I weren’t such a coward.

“I can feel you watching me, Angel,” Crowley interrupted his train of thought. He turned his head to face him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Aziraphale replied.

“See anything interesting?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale blushed. “You two make the cutest pair,” he said after a beat.

“Cute, eh?” Crowley said with a raised eyebrow. “Pawn of Satan himself and, well, me.”

“Oh stop it,” Aziraphale said. “Neither of you are evil and you know it.”

Crowley just grinned at him.

Cat took that moment to wake up and stretched on Crowley’s chest, prompting Aziraphale to coo at her for the millionth time.

Crowley scratched her head. “Who is cuter, me or Cat?” he asked, almost nonchalantly. Almost.

Aziraphale blushed again. “Well, I mean, that is to say—”

“Yeees?”

“I guess… you are? Yes. You. Definitely you,” Aziraphale said with a flutter in his stomach.

Crowley’s grin grew a smidge larger. “Damn right,” he said, still scratching Cat, albeit a bit absentmindedly. He regarded Aziraphale steadily, who fidgeted a little under the scrutiny.

“Glad to see you’re cocksure as always,” Aziraphale muttered to the side.

Crowley laughed with his whole body, prompting Cat to give a dissatisfied yelp. She jumped to the floor and stalked over to Aziraphale, where she started to circle his leg. Aziraphale hardly noticed her. He was transfixed by how carefree Crowley appeared, even when he himself was having a bit of an inner conflict.

“Oh, Angel,” Crowley said after composing himself. Except it sounded more like—

No. Aziraphale wasn’t going there.

“Dinner?” he said instead of voicing his thoughts. He uncrossed his legs and straightened in his chair.

“Always,” Crowley replied easily. He got up from where he was lounging on the sofa and approached Aziraphale. He got down on his knees, and for a moment Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Then Crowley scratched Cat’s chin. Aziraphale laughed nervously, and Crowley grinned. Then he got up again and softly carded his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls.

Aziraphale closed his eyes.

“Let’s go, then,” Crowley said softly.

Aziraphale nodded, even though he wanted nothing less than leave right now. He opened his eyes again and noticed Crowley regarding him steadily. His eyes, not hidden by sunglasses for once, where warm, and kind.

“Leave it to you to be jealous of a cat,” Crowley said.

“I—” Aziraphale started, his voice braking on the single syllable.

Crowley just kept touching him, and it was driving Aziraphale mad.

“I guess I didn’t know what to ask for,” he admitted hoarsely.

“As long as you know I am yours, and you are mine,” Crowley replied easily.

Aziraphale wanted to look down, but his demon didn’t let him. “I… I suppose I do,” he said, not quite believing it could turn out to be this easy.

Crowley bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. “Let’s eat,” he said. He straightened back up and held out his hand, which Aziraphale took.

They left the bookstore together holding hands. They went out to eat like they had done a thousand times before, like they would do a thousand more. Nothing had changed, and yet, to Aziraphale, it felt like everything had. His head was clear, his heart light.

Back in her overstuffed chair, Cat licked her paw. If one were to look at her now, they would almost say she looked very pleased, and maybe a little bit smug. As if she were thinking, finally.


End file.
